


Out the Window

by quartetship



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, M/M, Office Worker Lance, Window Washer Keith, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance really loves the view, through his office picture window. </p>
<p>Especially when a certain window washer is sitting pretty in the center of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out the Window

**Author's Note:**

> So yesterday I talked to a couple of people about an idea for window washer Keith/office worker Lance and here we are. 
> 
> Enjoy the tooth rotting fluff, friends!
> 
> \--

Forty thousand dollars a year. Friendly coworkers. An office with a view. 

Lance liked his job just fine. In a city where they were less than plentiful, he felt lucky to be employed, and blessed to enjoy going to work, most days. He had nothing to complain about, save for maybe the less than stellar break room coffee. 

Being a desk jockey wasn't the kind of life he’d pictured for himself, as an adventurous little boy. But then, who really ends up where they think they will? He was happy enough, doing the same tasks day in and day out, as long as he had the view of the city around him to break up the monotony. The skyline outside the massive picture window in his office was ever-changing, and with the rolling by of each season and celebration, the backdrop of his work day morphed into something different than the day before. That was his favorite part of the office, his favorite thing about working there.

Life inside was predictable, but just beyond that pane of glass, anything could happen - and he could see all of it. 

It was just on the other side of that window that he first saw a young man with dark hair, tied at the base of his neck as he worked, cleaning the glass. He looked to be Lance's age or quite near it, though Lance couldn't make out much more than that about his appearance. He wore a baggy uniform, stained with splashes of cleaning water and bleached spots from collar to hem, and a helmet-like hat strapped beneath his chin. Once in awhile, he took the hat off, to shake his hair out and tie it again, and that was when Lance got his first real look at the boy. 

Hovering outside of Lance’s office, on a cart suspended from thick, metal cables holding him some fifteen stories off the ground, the window washer glanced inside through the glass. He had striking, light eyes and pale skin, and a straight face that caught Lance off guard, considering how treacherous the work he was doing was. But he seemed content to let his safety gear do its job, and tucked his hair back into place before fitting his hat back on, barely aware that Lance was inside the office, much less watching him the entire time. 

He cleaned the window quickly, and then he was gone, descending down to the next floor. Lance peered out after him, unable to see anything but the cables pulled taut in his wake. He wondered how often the young man had been there before, how many times the guy had cleaned those same windows - and why he had never noticed him, before. 

Returning to his work, Lance found himself strangely distracted. Distracted, but smiling. 

He just never knew what he might see, beyond his workplace window. 

\--

For a few weeks, Lance let the window washer go about his work undisturbed. 

Though he never bothered the young man, he did take some silent notes. The company worked four days a week, and the dark haired boy washed windows on one side of the building, each day. Thursday was the day he cleaned Lance’s window, and he was always there around two in the afternoon. His work was methodical and efficient, and save for stopping to fix his hair or adjust his belts, the young man strayed very little from what he was doing. 

His movements were very fluid, very relaxing to watch, and by the third week, Lance found himself scheduling a late lunch, just to allow himself an excuse to stare out the window. 

“You alright, McClain?” 

Lance’s coworker, Hunk Garrett, startled him from his stupor. He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the door he hadn't heard open, and nodded. 

“Yeah, m’just. Looking outside.”

“More like staring a hole through the clean up guy,” Hunk snorted. Lance flashed him a glare, turning back around before he let himself wince. Was he really that obvious?

“Hey, he's here every week, so captive audience.” Hunk laughed. “Although if you're lookin’ to hook up you might wanna make it less obvious that you're staring so he doesn't think you're a creep.”

“You might wanna get out of my office, Hunk,” Lance huffed, but he didn't push any further. Hunk chuckled once more and dropped a stack of folders onto Lance’s desk, looking out the window himself before shaking his head and wandering back out into the hallway. He closed the door behind himself, and Lance let out a sigh, a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

If he was going to continue his window watching, he would have to be a little less conspicuous about it. That, or just have some justification for staring. 

He went home that evening wracking his brain for ideas. 

\--

The days between that night and the following Thursday seemed to drag on forever, but when the day finally arrived, Lance couldn't wait for the afternoon arrive. Once the sun had just tipped past its highest point, he saw the faint shadow of the window cleaning cart as it descended the building, and cleared his schedule to be sure he wouldn't miss his chance. 

He had plans, that day. 

Once the cleaning cart was sitting right in the middle of the frame of his large window, Lance made his move. Summoning his acting skills, he stood from his desk chair and stretched, lazily looking over to the window, as if just noticing by chance that someone was seated outside. Face brightening as if in surprise, he wandered over and knocked on the glass, offering the man outside a small wave. 

Eyes widening slightly, startled, the young man looked to either side and then slowly waved back. He didn't smile, really, but his face softened, slipped from its usual indifference to something more pleasant. A moment later he returned to his task, but his features remained soft. Lance wasn't sure what else he could do, given that there was a sheet of thick glass between he and the other man, but he felt some pride at having been noticed, at least. Before the window washer disappeared, he waved at Lance again, this time of his own volition. 

For the rest of that afternoon, Lance hummed happily as he worked. 

\--

Their weekly meetings started that way, just a simple exchange of waves and pleasant glances, but it wasn't long before they were something more worth looking forward to. 

The man outside had a lovely smile, Lance learned, once he was finally able to coax it out of him. He looked like he might have a pretty laugh too, but Lance couldn't hear it, through the glass. But he could see it, see the way it lit those light eyes, little wrinkles at their edges disappearing into wisps of black hair that hung around his delicate face. He was really good looking, even with his appearance distorted by his unsightly work uniform. 

Lance distantly wondered what he looked like in regular clothes, and if he would ever find out. 

They saw one another only for a few minutes once a week, speaking in wordless gestures and crude sign language, but making their points enough to make each other smile. Lance came to eagerly anticipate Thursday afternoons, dragging himself to work even if he felt under the weather, just to make sure he could see his favorite employee - a man who didn't even work for the same company he did. 

He was slow to admit that he had a crush on the guy; he didn't even know his name, for God’s sake. But it became much harder to deny one week in early autumn when the window cleaning cart made its descent down the side of the building - and someone else sat in the young man’s place. 

A much larger man began his work, washing the windows, paying no mind to Lance inside. Confused, Lance approached the glass, peering through it to see the stranger better. Despite an angry looking scar that stretched across his face, he wore a cheerful expression. He stopped his work and smiled at Lance, waving. 

Lance waved back, but worry gnawed at his stomach. 

Once the stranger had finished his work, he left without bidding Lance goodbye, and Lance left his office to find his friend Hunk. 

“Do you know anything about the window guy?” He asked, barging into Hunk’s office. Hunk, whose office was in the internal hallway, shook his head. 

“Uh, no. I don't even have a window, Lance.” He motioned at the solid, blank wall behind him. “Did something happen?”

“I dunno,” Lance admitted. “There's a different guy out there today. One I've never seen before, and… The other guy isn't there.”

“Maybe he's sick.” Hunk suggested. Lance nodded, but frowned.

“What if he quit?” 

Hunk shrugged, though his expression was edged with pity. “Then you missed your chance. Maybe just hang out ‘til next week, see if he shows back up, and then say something.”

“What do I say?” Lance blurted out. He knew he was beyond the point of denying anything, especially to Hunk. So he didn't bother. Scratching his head, Hunk contemplated his question. 

“Not sure, man. Ask him his name? Tell him yours? Make some kinda move, dude. You're gonna miss your shot, for real.”

“Yeah.” Lance agreed quietly, already beginning to back toward the door again. “Yeah, alright. And uh, Hunk? Thanks for not giving me shit.”

“No problem, chief.” Hunk grinned. “I'm saving all my shit-giving for after you inevitably sleep with the guy and come to work lookin’ smug about it.”

“Much appreciated,” Lance snorted, and headed back for his own office, his steps still heavy.

At least he had a plan, he thought. Or at least the beginnings of one. 

For the next six days, he hoped his unnamed acquaintance had only been out sick for the day. 

\--

The following Thursday, Lance settled at his desk before his morning coffee was even cold, and began writing a note. He rewrote it several times, unable to decide on the exact wording he wanted to use. Using a thick pen, he bolded certain words, to make sure they would be legible. 

He needed to make sure the letter could be read, even through a thick pane of glass. 

As the lunch hour came and went, he waited, an increasingly anxious mess. When he saw the telltale shadow beginning to loom above his window, he immediately hatched a plan to see if the usual window washer had returned. He bolted to an elevator headed upward to ask the woman whose office sat one floor above his if she had been dealing with a leak - one he'd entirely fabricated the idea of. She told him she hadn't, and he thanked her, but not before first stepping into the doorway of her office, affording himself a good, solid look out her window. 

Outside, cleaning as quickly as his technique would allow, was the familiar window washer. Lance waved a polite farewell to the woman behind the desk and all but ran back to the elevator, and to his own office below. 

When the cart was lowered to perch in front of his window at last, Lance made every effort not to jump up out of his seat and fly to the window. The man outside seemed to see through his ruse, though; he smirked, waving back at Lance with nearly as much enthusiasm as Lance gave him, and looking very, very satisfied with Lance’s reaction to his return. 

Though the look in his eye made Lance’s cheeks burn all the way back to his ears, he wouldn't let himself be frightened out of sharing his thoughts. Hunk’s voice echoed in his mind, warning him not to miss his chance. He scurried back to his desk, grabbing the final draft of the letter he'd written, and taping it, text side out, to the window. 

Without any further prompting, the man outside adjusted his seat, lowering himself so that he could sit eye level with the page. Reading carefully, he broke into a wide grin halfway through, laughing aloud, and Lance could almost  _ hear _ it. He traced the words with his finger, as if to make sure he was reading them correctly. 

  
  


_ Hey, _

_ I know we see each other here every week, and you probably see tons of other suit monkeys too, but when you didn't work last Thursday I realized I kind of like seeing you. Like, a lot. So I was just wondering if you might like to go grab coffee or something sometime, maybe somewhere a little closer to the ground?  _

_ Lance _

  
  


With a phone number written plainly across the bottom, the note ended there, and Lance worried as the man outside reread it again that he might have been too forward. But then the other man was smiling, nodding his head, and mouthing again and again, ‘Yeah, yes.’

Lance couldn't help the stupid grin that split his face then, dancing a little as he rocked on his heels, nodding too. He left the note in place and just watched the young man outside, finishing his work with a smile on his face to match Lance’s. When he readied his cart to be lowered to the floor below it, he raised his hand to wave goodbye to Lance as he always did, but tapped fingers gently against the glass, instead. Lance, standing inside only inches from the window, pressed his own hand to where the other man’s palm flattened against it, and they stayed that way for a long moment, just exchanging looks laced with the promise of more to come.

When finally the window washer disappeared for the day, Lance could hardly focus on the rest of his schedule, fairly certain he would spend the entirety of the following day, redoing all of his work. But when his phone buzzed on his desk and he saw an unfamiliar number at the top of a text message alert, something told him it might just be worth it. 

  
  


_ Thanks for the invite, suit monkey. Coffee sounds great. _

_ Keith _


End file.
